Splish! Splash!
by Louise Hargadon
Summary: TAG2015. Oneshot following the end of SOS Part 1. Gordon takes a well-deserved long soak in the bath at Creighton-Ward Mansion after a tough day searching for Sherbet. Penelope helps. Only just about dodging the censors with a Kplus rating. Lots of Gordon/Penelope, although it's basically just gratuitous Naked!Gordon for nobody's benefit but mine.


_**A/N:** I swear to god I wasn't going to write any more fanfic because I already wrote three in a week a couple of weeks ago, and I didn't want to be annoying. But then **Thunderbirds Are Go** gave me way too much **Penelope/Gordon** in SOS Part 1 and... well... My hand slipped._

_Besides, today is my birthday (or at least, it was my birthday yesterday when I started writing this!) and I'm officially allowed to have whatever I want on my birthday. And that absolutely includes Gordon Tracy in a bathtub. _

_**Disclaimer: Thunderbirds** still doesn't belong to me. All I have is almost 30 years of love for these characters. The title is from the classic 1958 hit by the beautiful **Bobby Darin**._

**Splish! Splash!**

Gordon's skin was red.

Usually, his skin was a beautiful golden tan that complemented his sandy blond hair and his cinnamon brown eyes perfectly. The only reason you'd even realise that it was a tan was because of the massive tan-lines on his wrists where his leather wristbands had lived for far longer than he cared to remember. His skin had been thoroughly exfoliated by nature, smoothed by the sands and salty seas of Tracy Island after swimming and surfing there almost every day. Happiest out in the blazing sunshine, either in the pool or on the beach, the faint scent of the coconut oil in his sunblock followed him around almost as much as the salty smell of the sea did. It was an intoxicating and beguiling scent, and one which lingered beautifully. Gordon Tracy was one of those men who just always smelled pretty damn good.

Except for today. Following an unfortunate altercation with a polecat. In a sewage pipe. Today, he smelled like a silage pit that someone had vomited on and then poured sour milk into and then put it into a hot oven with month-old jizz-encrusted socks. Today he did not smell good at all. Today, his soft, golden skin was bright red after wearing out two exfoliating sponges on it just to try and get rid of the smell.

His intentions had been semi-noble. Parker had called, thoroughly panic-stricken because he thought he had lost Sherbet. All Gordon wanted to do was to save the day, win a few brownie points with Lady Penelope, maybe get a hug that lasted a little too long, maybe some sort of mumbled thank you into his shoulder, maybe she'd realise she was every bit as crazy about him as he was about her. Whatever. He just wanted to look good in front of Lady Penelope, that's all. Parker knew that. Parker had played Gordon like a fiddle to get him to crawl into that pipe in the first place. If anything, all of this was Parker's fault. When Penelope finally arrived home and confirmed that Gordon had been sent on a rather expensive, smelly and humiliating wild goose chase, instead of looking like the hero of the hour, he looked and smelled like Hobo Smurf. Even though there technically was no Hobo Smurf.

Fortunately, despite some gentle teasing, Penelope did take pity on Gordon and had offered to let him get cleaned up at Creighton-Ward Mansion before heading home. Scott was going to be angry enough about Gordon taking his 'Bird on a joyride just to impress a girl - not to mention the small matter of a smashed drone. Penelope dreaded to think what would happen if Thunderbird One arrived home smelling as though several things had defecated, vomited and died in there. Scott would probably turn into a giant green rage monster and smash up the entire launch bay.

"You need a good long soak in the bath," she said. Gordon nodded enthusiastically.

"That's exactly what I need. Say, you got a boat?" he asked. She frowned.

"Well, yes, I have FAB 2, but I don't see how-"

"No, I don't mean a yacht, I mean like a boat in the bathtub," Gordon said, shaking his head dismissively. Penelope was visibly taken aback.

"You... you still play with toys in the bath?" she asked. He shrugged.

"Doesn't everyone?"

"No."

"Why?" he asked, genuinely baffled. Penelope opened her mouth to give an answer but she couldn't think of one.

"I'll see what I can do," she said. "Parker!" she called. Parker entered the room, with a clothes peg on his nose.

"Yes, M'Lady?" he asked, loftily. Gordon let out a cry of consternation. There was only so much adding insult to injury that even he could take. Penelope couldn't help but feel sorry for him.

"Parker, really, there's no need to be quite so melodramatic. After all, if you hadn't overreacted so much and called for International Rescue, Gordon wouldn't even be in this situation!" she said, her tone firm, despite the fact she was trying her hardest not to laugh. Parker's shoulders dropped as he reluctantly removed the clothes peg, then contorted his face in disgust as the aroma from Gordon assaulted his ample nose. "Do we have such a thing as a model boat?" Penelope asked, nonchalantly.

"No, M'Lady," Parker said, a little confused.

"I thought as much," she said, a little too casually. "I'm sorry, Gordon. If it's any consolation, we have plenty of bubble bath and you're welcome to use as much of that as you like!" she said, squeezing his shoulder affectionately. Gordon beamed at her and scampered to the guest room in order to take full advantage of the en-suite bath. Penelope looked down at her hand and grimaced. She'd probably smell of polecat juice and sewers too, now.

There was nothing about water that Gordon didn't love. He was always more at home in it than out of it, and was sure he'd probably been a merman in a former life. Water was life, and life was all about play, and nobody played harder than Gordon Cooper Tracy. He filled the tub almost to the top, bubbles from the bubble bath looking like a range of jasmine-scented snow capped mountains. He carefully stood up on the edge of the bath, balancing carefully on his tiptoes so as not to knock any of the shampoo and soap bottles onto the floor. Then, with a whoop of delight, he dived in bodily, causing a tsunami-like wave to flood the bathroom. He laughed loudly and unashamedly, and ducked his head under the water that still remained in the tub for as long as he could hold his breath. When he finally came up for air, he grabbed handfuls of suds and placed them carefully on his head and face to make himself look like Santa, and then piled generous helpings of suds onto his chest.

"Soap boobs!" he yelled to nobody in particular, then made comedy honk-honk noises as he squashed the suds into nothing with his hands.

After using the loofah as a microphone and treating his invisible audience to a few Beach Boys classics, he decided he really needed to get himself clean properly. He emptied the bath and refilled it, adding even more bubble bath, then grabbed the nicest-smelling block of soap from the bathroom cabinet and hopped back into the tub, far more demurely than last time.

He couldn't believe how thoroughly the stench had penetrated his skin, and then he laughed because he had thought of the word 'penetrate'. His fingertips had wrinkled like little prunes, and he had scrubbed and scrubbed himself down until his entire body burned. His kneecaps had never been so clean. His chest hadn't hurt so much since his swimming days with Team USA, when he used to to get almost everything waxed. He even used the sponge on his scalp and began to worry that he'd give himself a bald patch.

Finally, after what must have been at least an hour and a half, he emerged from the bathroom, a clean white towel firmly girding his hips. The smell hadn't gone, but it was now reduced to a strange background hint rather than a metaphorical kick in the face. He was definitely in a much better mood. Rummaging through the drawers of the bedside cabinet, he was delighted to find a large tub of cocoa butter in the second drawer down, and promptly dug his fingers deeply into the tub before starting to massage it thoroughly into his skin. The cool sensation of the moisturiser on his burning skin was divine, and it smelled incredible. He carried on working the moisturiser into his calves, his thighs, pausing briefly to add more cocoa butter onto himself the moment he felt the slightest patch of dry skin.

He had just finished moisturising his stomach and chest when there was a knock at the door.

"Come in!" he called, carelessly. The door opened and he heard Penelope gasp in shock.

"Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry, I thought you were... umm... I mean... you've been such a long time... I mean... I didn't... I'll go," she stammered, backing away and hoping her eyes hadn't bulged too far out of her head at the sight of Gordon's chest.

"Oh hey, no, wait, don't go," he called out.

"Gordon I think it's for the best if I-"

"No, I need you to do my back!"

"Gordon, really!"

"I'm not a contortionist, Penny, I can't do it myself!" he said, a little impatiently.

Penelope hesitated for a moment before walking into the room. "What do you want me to do?" she asked. "At least it smells a bit nicer in here!" she said, laughing nervously.

"Just get hold of this, will ya," he began, turning around and leaning across to the tub of cocoa butter. At first, Penelope didn't quite see what he was doing and wasn't sure exactly what 'this' was.

"Gordon!" she shouted, almost scandalised. Gordon frowned and turned around, handing her the tub.

"What?" he asked, confused. She blushed bright red.

"The moisturiser. Of course. Yes. Obviously."

"Why, what did you think I wanted you to get a hold of?" he asked, his eyes glinting mischievously. "You'd definitely need two hands for _that_!" he teased. Penelope blushed even more deeply.

"I don't know what you mean," she said, primly, trying to not look at him and his perfectly toned swimmer's body. He grinned at her, dug his finger into the tub and in one fluid movement, dabbed a splodge of moisturiser on the end of her nose. She let out a shout of protest and backed away, wiping her nose and screwing her face up as he laughed.

"There's like a patch from the base of my neck to the middle of my shoulder blades, I can't reach it," he said. "I can manage the rest!"

"Oh yes, of course," she said, scooping out a rather large amount onto her fingertips and rubbing her palms together briefly before she touched him. At first she was inexplicably nervous and almost tried to rub the moisturiser in without actually touching him.

"...Have you started yet?" he asked. "I mean this is getting awkward," he needlessly said. Penelope swallowed hard and cleared her throat.

"Yes, sorry, I was miles away," she said, brightly, pressing more firmly and working the moisturiser into his skin carefully. She studied his back with interest, the freckles on his right shoulder, the crescent-shaped scar on his right shoulder blade from one time he fell out of a tree back on the farm in Kansas. His skin was already quite smooth and taut. Although he had a very impressive physique, instead of having a hard, too-muscular frame, his body was soft and warm underneath her touch.

"You're pretty good at this," he said, moving his shoulders and neck until he heard a satisfying *crack*. "No idea how long that knot had been there!"

"I... I wanted to apologise," she answered. Gordon frowned.

"Apologise? For what?"

"Well, you did go to such a lot of trouble for nothing," she said, absentmindedly massaging moisturiser further down his back than he had requested, and noticing several nasty looking scars toward the base of his spine, obviously reminders from the hydrofoil crash.

"Oh. That."

"I mean, you weren't to know Sherbet was with me, and... and I know he's 'just a dog', but-"

"Hey, no, he's not, there's no such thing as 'just a dog'. He's important to you, so he's important to me," Gordon said. Penelope stopped working the cocoa butter into his back for a moment. "I mean. Um. Listen, if he really had gone missing, you'd have been heartbroken and... well. I don't think I could deal with seeing you heartbroken," he said, his tone soft and gentle, his feelings as unashamedly exposed as the rest of his body.

"You stole Thunderbird One, crawled into a sewer pipe and got sprayed by a polecat, to find a dog that wasn't even missing, just to make sure I wouldn't be upset?" she asked. He nodded.

"I mean it wasn't how I was expecting my afternoon to go, but... It was definitely worth it," he said. Penelope squeezed his shoulder gently and finally turned him to face her.

"I don't think anyone has ever done anything so... bloody stupid for me before!" she said, unable to suppress a giggle. Gordon blushed slightly and chuckled good-naturedly. "I don't think anyone has ever done anything so wonderful, either," she added, before leaning in and kissing him gently. He placed his hands on her waist and pulled her further into his body as he returned the kiss deeply. His hands slid down to her hips, his strong fingers digging in and pulling her closer and closer into him, stroking and squeezing at the tops of her thighs. She ran her fingers through his hair, twisting strands around her fingers and pulling firmly at them. Sliding her hands down to his chest, she broke off the kiss briefly and gazed at his face, his eyes shining, the permanent smirk on his mouth more prominent than ever, his lips still tinging with the taste of hers on them. It was the easiest thing in the world for her to sink into a soft, deep, lingering kiss, wrapping her arms around him tightly as though she hoped to actually meld onto him and never have to let him go again.

"One of us is wearing way too many clothes for this," he murmured onto her neck as he started trailing small, light kisses along her neck, down past her throat, curling his fingers into the belt loops of her jeans and trying to push them down.

Before either of them could escalate the situation any further, Sherbet bounded into the bedroom with his favourite toy between his teeth, squeaking maniacally and completely shattering the moment. He dropped the toy on the ground at Gordon's feet and started barking playfully.

"Sherbet!" he protested, letting out a groan of frustration.

"Sherbet, no!" Penelope lamented, throwing her head back and screwing her eyes shut in despair.

Sherbet sat down and looked up at Penelope, his tail still wagging frantically. Penelope looked apologetically at Gordon. He rolled his eyes, shook his head and let out a breath of laughter.

"Saved by the bell," he said. "Or, yknow. Squeak. God, that sound isn't annoying," he added, sarcastically. Penelope giggled and tucked her hair behind her ears, trying not to look as embarrassed as she felt.

"I'm sorry, I really should leave you to get ready. Thunderbird One isn't going to fly itself back to Tracy Island!" she said.

Gordon nodded, a little ruefully. "It was fun while it lasted," he said with a contented sigh, before trailing his index fingertip gently down the side of her face and down her throat, before pressing down at a point around the centre of her breastbone until the skin around it went white.

"What was that for?" she asked, puzzled. He grinned cheekily at her.

"Just marking my place, so I'll know where to pick up from next time!"

Despite herself, Penelope burst out laughing. There was no sense in denying it - she simply couldn't _wait_ until the next time.

**THE END**


End file.
